Reviews by kuvien

This is one of those rare prog rock albums that was released after the onslaught of punk, and it shows punk why prog is still relevant, beautiful, complex, intelligent, challenging, and cannot and will not ever be killed. As for debut albums, this is one of the strongest I've heard from any band. Änglagård owns its stylistic influences, which is a good thing, but its the prog folk touches that really sell this album for me.

Epic, fantastic, complex music tinged with darkness; a music of acute angles and narrow corridors, exploring the straightaways slowly but the corners at breakneck speed, thus running into unexpected and sudden musical phrases.

Disturbing gothic country about sexual slavery and torture, for starters. Damn. Themes of nakedness and blood and broken memories. A stark division between the carved-up body and the untouched mind. And, of course, the theme that appeals most strongly to me for some reason: the conflation of religion and sex. Typical Gira, basically, just in folksy country form now. Him masquerading as an angel of light. This lush music envelops you with an array of enchanted sounds, too, such as the classic country lap steel guitar but also more folk instruments like the hammered dulcimer, tambourine, and the glockenspiel. Graveyard country playing while you're forced to lie with the woman you love to hate, the woman you hate to love.

I don't know anything about this supergroup or the other groups the members come from. I haven't even heard any other Angels & Airwaves album, and I'm not sure if I'm even interested in exploring their catalog. But this album is gold. It's got a cheese-sheen on some of the tracks, but that's fine. This is a fun collection of catchy rock songs that should be played in a stadium full of positive people. People who just want to rock out without navel gazing and double-checking that they're liking the "right" kind of music.

This album was made by two guys who were huge in the 80s Yugoslavian scene. One of them happened to move to Brazil to pursue a career in mixing and mastering. These guys then got together with three Brazilians to make music, and this is a result. This is one of those peculiar albums made by people who are huge in the former Soviet-adjacent countries but are unheard of anywhere else. That war-torn area has its own music ecosystem, it seems. I hear some Swans early on here, but later I hear some new-wave-era King Crimson, too. A very moody album with the main male vocalist singing in Serbian while a female vocalist peppers some tracks with spoken-word Portuguese. Overall, it's a pretty tame album with certain dramatic flourishes raising the music above its tepid temperatures only for a few moments here and there. My favorite track is "Madalena" because something actually interesting happens.

Husky, dramatic vocals that cannot escape comparisons to Ribeiro's unrestrained, harsh style. Andrtová-Voňková is more restrained, rooted in the technical world of her acoustic guitar instead of letting loose in a wilder, more tribal environment. Composed almost completely by Andrtová-Voňková, this album enjoys a splash of not only traditional folk lyrics but also some poetry set to music. Sonically, the tracks sound like they were recorded in a room far too big for the music, creating a raw, dark atmosphere. There are wonderful moments on Side B of female shrieking and moaning, two vocalizations I am always in favor of.

Moments of husky, passionate singing similar to Ribeiro woven in with high, sweet, pastoral vocalizations that are the antithesis of their earthy counterpoints. Freaky but not frightening, as this album strays more into avant territory and doesn't explore too much the traditional roots of the folk. However, following what I have come to understand is a theme that, though rare, is still common enough in folk traditions to raise an eyebrow or two, Andrtová-Voňková sings at one point of an incestuous mother-son relationship. Some great, warm acoustic guitar work here that lets you get comfortable before running its nails down the strings.

Northern jazz for socialists: not a suppression but rather a sublimation of the individual into the collective, bringing many individual experiences into a studio to record side A and side B in one take each, exploring how a ten-piece ensemble can play Hindustani classical as well as it wields formless space without measured time.

I appreciate what André is doing here, and more power to him. My heart always went out to the poor man for being trapped in the world of hip hop. Ambient isn't my thing, but I will continue to watch this development of the artist with interest and hope for more branching out from him in the future.

Still so proud of this dude! Keep taking those steps away from hip hop.

snaps fingers, opens hand

"Fetch me my crossbow."

This is the story of a people who must leave their home planet and find a new one—and that’s where the similarities with Kobaïa end. The hero, Olias, must build a mystical ship to save his race in this magical, pastoral tale, despite it necessarily being one of science-fantasy. All in all, this is a story of fantastic exploration and discovery.

A collaboration among jazz sax and flute player, historical music ensemble, and traditional music group, this album meet in a pseudo-Gnostic atmosphere of duality, seeking not necessarily balance as many do but more interested in exploring the tension that naturally arises between opposites and the music it evokes.

The perfect album for walking in and out of the room, because you know you're not going to miss anything. You always return at the moment you left, which is, I think, part of the point of this music.

This album shows the band’s slide from experimental into commercial accessibility.

It's like a 70s RIO band and a 90s klezmer cover band had a baby and produced this weird monstrosity. Definitely more prog than folk. This music is seven people doing whatever they want and having a fun time doing so, hang the expectations of the listeners. Accordion and hurdy gurdy... sure. But, no avant-prog release is complete without the inclusion of the bassoon. By the way, the album title taught me about limbic rage, a "seizure-like disorder in the limbic system of the brain that causes unpredictable and often unprovoked rages." Weird. This album feels more like play than rage. That real-life medical condition, though, is some dark shit.

Sad love songs in the Bosnian folk tradition focusing on pathos-drenched female vocals accompanied by fiery violins and ponderous accordions, echoed by a lovely clarinet that punctuates nearly every lyrical passage.

Alan Bishop of fame opens this split in his typical weird way, with eerie, oversaturated, half-spoken vocals accompanied by droning fiddles that sound broken. The second track, a Bishop composition, is a disturbing little acoustic track about chopped up babies, and it's so short it could be the song of some ne'er-do-well lurking in the alleyway you just happen to be passing. You can't get away, though, for details of dismemberment and splattered gore follow.

When Cerberus Shoal takes over the split, they put a marvelous Weill-esque dark cabaret spin on "Blood Baby", making it creepier by codifying its structure, but when they move on to "Viking Christmas", it feels like going through a corridor from one song to another, or passing through a humming cafeteria of activity, where someone's conducting a singalong over a crappy PA system. You make your way past all that to the evening's centerpiece entertainment, "The Real Ding", an 18-minute sprawling folk song that builds from typewriter to full banjo-cantering chorus of charming, deadpan vocals. Though I've read through the lyrics, I have no idea what this song is about, and I don't think I'm supposed to. Rarely has a song resonated with me on a music level as much as this one does.

Apparently her lyrics are both surreal and feminist. No idea, since I don't speak her language, but I enjoy the almost lo-fi folk tunes with their hint of Asturian folk.

A great album to enjoy as you grow steadily hotter, blowing in a sound from distant shores and making itself at home.